08-30-2021, 03:13 PM
liesma
Can’t he feel it?
Can’t he feel the way the gold glows like the sun and hadn’t her father told her that the sun was made of fire?
And he is standing here in the darkness, ablaze, and there is evidence of a fire beneath his feet and he’s asking her to tell him in no uncertain terms that she’d meant what she’d said. As if she were prone to lying. As if it were in her nature to say things that weren’t true.
But she does not chastise him for implying that she might be dishonest. She just nods and says, “you are.” Because, to her, it really is that simple.
And then she shifts her attention to the embers there in the dirt and he confesses that he’d done it on purpose, because the thing had told her where to find him, that he was there at all. She wonders what it means that he had been so quick to destroy it. She studies it, how sad it looks there in his soft glow, and she nods but she does not ask him why. She does not ask him if he’d do the same to her if she were to betray him. What a way to die, she thinks.
She glances up at his question. Up at him and then up at the sky. And she thinks about all she’d had to do to call the stars out of the sky was think about how much she loved them, how much she missed them, and they’d leaned down to embrace her. How brilliant they had glowed there in the air around her, a thousand fireflies there in the meadow.
“I was visiting with my friends,” she tells him and it is not that she is lying or even that she is being purposefully vague. She does not fully understand the magic of it yet. The stars are her friends, or at least that is how she sees them. It has not occurred to her that someday she might actually be able to bend them to her will.
“What were you doing?” she asks, shifting her focus back to his face.
Can’t he feel the way the gold glows like the sun and hadn’t her father told her that the sun was made of fire?
And he is standing here in the darkness, ablaze, and there is evidence of a fire beneath his feet and he’s asking her to tell him in no uncertain terms that she’d meant what she’d said. As if she were prone to lying. As if it were in her nature to say things that weren’t true.
But she does not chastise him for implying that she might be dishonest. She just nods and says, “you are.” Because, to her, it really is that simple.
And then she shifts her attention to the embers there in the dirt and he confesses that he’d done it on purpose, because the thing had told her where to find him, that he was there at all. She wonders what it means that he had been so quick to destroy it. She studies it, how sad it looks there in his soft glow, and she nods but she does not ask him why. She does not ask him if he’d do the same to her if she were to betray him. What a way to die, she thinks.
She glances up at his question. Up at him and then up at the sky. And she thinks about all she’d had to do to call the stars out of the sky was think about how much she loved them, how much she missed them, and they’d leaned down to embrace her. How brilliant they had glowed there in the air around her, a thousand fireflies there in the meadow.
“I was visiting with my friends,” she tells him and it is not that she is lying or even that she is being purposefully vague. She does not fully understand the magic of it yet. The stars are her friends, or at least that is how she sees them. It has not occurred to her that someday she might actually be able to bend them to her will.
“What were you doing?” she asks, shifting her focus back to his face.
i see you shining through the treetops
But i don’t feel you pulling strings anymore
But i don’t feel you pulling strings anymore
@Fyr